


Love and Confession/August 10, 1989

by RinaRose



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Canon Rewrite, Confessions, Fix-It, Found Family, Gen, I hated it so I decided to rewrite it, Internalized Homophobia, Love Declarations, Mentions of Racism, The Loser's Club supporting each other, What even is canon?, a rewrite of one specific scene from the book, based almost entirely off the book, but I imagine this taking place in 1989, but there is no underage sewer sex here!!!, everyone & everyone - Freeform, rated T for language and theme, shitty parents, so it's like a mix of book and movie canon, you know that one scene where the kids all have sex in the sewer for some reason?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27511789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RinaRose/pseuds/RinaRose
Summary: They come to a crossroads of tunnels, and Bill turns to him. “Wh-where now, E-E-Eddie?”Eddie sighs. He has to admit defeat, or risk getting them even more seriously lost than they already are. “I don’t know. I think… I think we’re lost, Big Bill.”“Well, what do we do now?” Stan cries.In the quiet dark that follows, Beverly has a half-formed idea. She draws in breath, about to open her mouth to speak, when someone else speaks first. She defers to the unofficial leader of their group.“I h-have an i-idea,” he says. “I h-have to t-t-tell you s-something. A con-confession.”A rewrite of THAT one scene in the book to take out the underage sewer sex, and to explore what could have turned out differently for the Loser's Club with this one change.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, The Losers Club & The Losers Club (IT)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 59





	Love and Confession/August 10, 1989

**Author's Note:**

> So I just finished rereading the book, and I can definitively say that this was the worst scene in the whole thing. It made me supremely uncomfortable to read, so I decided to rewrite it. Rest assured that there is nothing underage here!!
> 
> It's sort of hard to say what's canon in this fandom, but this is based primarily on the book, with a number of specific book references - but should still make sense if you haven't read the book. The two bits of canon that I took from the films are that it takes place in 1989, and Richie has a crush on Eddie. 
> 
> CW for internalized homophobia, mentions of racism and bad parents; it's all very mild compared to canon but just putting that out there.

"Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference."

\- Robert Frost

They have been wandering in the darkness for what feels like an hour, perhaps an hour and a half, when Eddie finally admits with an air of confusion rather than concern that he is, for the first time in his life, lost. There is fear, certainly, but the overwhelming sense for Eddie is one of wrongness. This doesn’t happen to him. He never gets lost. But somewhere along the way, his lefts and rights, forwards and backwards, and even ups and downs had gotten jumbled together, and now all he knows is that they are under the city of Derry, Maine. He just doesn’t know _where_. 

They come to a crossroads of tunnels, and Bill turns to him. “Wh-where now, E-E-Eddie?”

Eddie sighs. He has to admit defeat, or risk getting them even more seriously lost than they already are. “I don’t know. I think… I think we’re lost, Big Bill.”

This isn’t a total surprise, since they have been walking aimlessly for a while now. But to hear it spoken aloud, by the one who is supposed to be their guide, no less, is the final straw for the already frightened members of the Loser’s Club. Eddie pictures their dam in the Barrens, the one he and Bill made, before Ben had showed up - how it could only staunch the flow of so much water before the pressure caused it to burst. He hears Stan let out a muffled sob, somewhere close by in the dark. 

“Well, what do we do now?” the serious boy asks. “I don’t want to be down here anymore. I don’t want to be dirty and wet, I don’t want to be in the dark anymore. What are we supposed to _do_ , Bill?” Stan’s stifled sobs have turned to full tears now.

“Stanley,” Bill says, in a voice that sounds much like his father’s. The lack of a stutter, combined with the authority in his tone, is enough to stop Stan from sobbing, although tears still streak his face. 

In the quiet darkness that follows, Beverly has a half-formed idea. She draws in breath, about to open her mouth to speak, when someone else speaks first. She defers to the unofficial leader of their group. 

“I h-have an i-idea,” he says. A pause, then: “I h-have to t-t-tell you s-something. A con-confession.” No one responds to this, but the air is charged with some strange energy. Even in the dark, each one of the seven is aware that they are standing in a tight circle, that they are all looking toward Bill, waiting for him to continue. “Ih-it’s my f-fault G-G-G-Georgie died.”

The reaction from his friends is immediate, an outburst of indignation. There is a startled, “Bill!” from Beverly; a collective groan from Ben, Stan, and Eddie; an adamant, “No,” from Mike; and, bizarrely for the circumstance but not at all surprising, Richie’s southern gentleman Voice saying, “No _sir_ , it’s just not true!”

“Ih-it is true,” Bill proclaims, pausing to take a deep breath. Despite the impenetrable dark, the other six would swear that they can see the frustration on Bill’s face as he tries to work through the stutter in his words. 

_It’s in our minds_ , Richie realizes. _It’s like we can see each other in our minds._

_So close we can read each other’s thoughts_ , Beverly thinks. A shiver runs up both their spines at the same moment, and somehow they both know that too, despite being across the circle from each other. 

“Ih-it’s my f-fault Georgie died,” Bill repeats slowly, painstakingly against his stutter. He continues, “I d-didn’t go ow-out with him th-that day. He w-wanted me to, but I-I-I w-wasn’t with him. If I was th-there, he w-wouldn’t have gone near that s-s-s-sewer. And you want to kn-know the worst p-part? I know it’s my f-f-fault be-because of my parents. They act like I don’t even e-exist. Like I disa-p-p-peared as soon as he d-d-died. My parents blame me. And they’re r-r-r-right.”

“Nah, Bill. Your parents are just assholes,” Richie says before the tiny filter in his brain can stop him.

“Beep-beep, Richie!” Bev scolds, and there is a note of real anger in her voice, though it’s hard to tell if it’s caused by Richie’s statement, or the knowledge that Bill blames himself for the fact that his brother was eaten by the monster they had just 

( _injured_ )

killed. 

“No, Richie is right,” Eddie agrees. “I mean, they’re not assholes, but they’re adults. They don’t see what we see, they don’t understand,” his voice is near breaking, a cry that sounds almost like a plea. 

“He’s right,” Mike joins in. “It’s like today at your house. We stood in your kitchen, we made sandwiches and talked and laughed, and it was like your mom didn’t even hear us. She didn’t even know we were there. Not just you, she didn’t see me either. It’s not you, Bill. It killed your brother, and It made your parents cold. But It’s gone now. That’s over with, and things will be better.”

“And we love you, Bill,” Ben adds. “It isn’t your fault, but we still love you. No matter what.”

“Yeah, we love you so much we followed you into the damn sewer,” Stan says wryly. It earns a chuckle from the rest of the group. 

Bill nods his head once, solemnly. There are tears on his cheeks. No one can see either of these things, but somehow they just _know_. 

Beverly speaks next. “I have a confession, too. I’m still scared. I'm afraid of my dad. Earlier today, he… he wanted to do something to me. He chased me. And I think he meant to kill me, too. I’m afraid of what’s waiting for me at home. I want to get out of this fucking sewer, but I think I’m just as scared of what’s up there than what’s down here.”

“But that was It too, wasn’t it?” Ben asks. 

“Partly, yeah. The part that made him want to kill me. But he was like that before. He always hit me, and 

( _I worry about you, Bevvie. I worry_ a lot)

worried about me, before. I think, even without It, he was getting worse.” Tears slip down her face, too, and she understands now. They are ceremonial as much as they are cathartic, and everyone will have them - if they don’t already - by the time this conversation is through. 

“What about your mom?” Eddie asks, barely above a whisper. “Does she know?”

Beverly remembers what her mother had asked her. _Does he touch you, Bev?_ How it hadn’t made sense to her then, only a few short weeks ago, and how it makes perfect, terrible sense to her now. “Yes. Or, she at least has her suspicions.”

“Th-then you have to t-talk to her. T-tell her what he d-d-does. I thi-ink things will be d-different after this, anyway. Y-your mom will kn-know what to do.”

Surprisingly, there's a ferocity in Stan's voice that covers any trace of his tears when he says, “We love you, Beverly. We’ll protect you from anything. And we’ll be there for you through anything, too.”

Beverly nods, accepting their love as they accepted her confession. 

“I guess, while we’re on the subject of shitty parents, I have a confession too,” Eddie’s breath comes out in a wheeze. 

Richie, standing right next to him, gently touches Eddie’s arm in the dark, careful not to startle him. “Need your inhaler, Eds?”

Eddie lets out the most bitter laugh Richie has ever heard. “Well yeah, but actually no, because I don’t have fucking asthma.” His breathing has become short and ragged, and his hands are shaking, and if he doesn’t reach into his pocket for his inhaler in the next three seconds then Richie is going to do it for him, which he knows Eddie 

( _appreciates, loves_ )

hates. But then Eddie coughs deeply, takes a few shaky breaths, and just like that, returns to normal. 

“What do you mean, you don’t have asthma?” Ben asks. 

“I mean, it’s all fake. My mom made it up, and the doctors all went along with it. My medication is all just gazebos. I found out the day Henry broke my arm. Creepy Mr. Keene told me, and I didn’t believe him at first, but then in the hospital I asked her about it, and it’s true.”

“But why would your mom lie to you like that? Was that It, too?” Mike asks with genuine confusion. He doesn’t know Sonia Kaspbrak the way some of them do. 

“No,” Eddie is definitely crying now. “That wasn’t It, that was just my mom. She’s always been over protective of me, my whole life. So protective that she had to make up a problem to keep me safe from. That day in the hospital, we talked about it. She wouldn’t let you guys in to see me, so I… I let her know what I know. I told her I’d keep quiet about it if she let me keep my friends.” Truthfully, ‘blackmailed’ is a better word for what Eddie had done to Sonia in the hospital, but some traitorous part of him still wants to be a loyal son, so he tells his friends that it was more of a rational agreement than it was. 

“Damn, Eds, that’s pretty badass. You finally stood up to the wicked witch!” Richie exclaims. 

“Maybe. But the thing that’s so fucked up is that I still feel like I need my inhaler. I know it’s bullshit and fake, but my lungs still feel like it’s real. And most of the time, my inhaler is the only thing that helps,” he cries. “I’m not actually sick, but I still feel sick. You all must think I’m so pathetic.”

Mike speaks up, “If you feel it, then it has to be real. Just because it’s not real asthma, doesn’t mean it’s not really hurting you.” Eddie nods in the dark, wiping tears off his cheeks with his good hand. 

“Yeah, we love you, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie says, his heart hammering in his throat, because what he really wants to say is ‘I’ and not ‘We.’ He tempers this feeling with humor by adding, “Doesn’t matter if you’ve got a broken arm or asthma or fuckin’ fibromyalgia, or whatever.” 

“You don’t even know what fibromyalgia is, idiot,” Eddie shoots back. 

“No, you’re right, I don’t” Richie replies, and wow, when did those tears get on his face?

Maybe he hears it in Richie’s voice, or maybe it’s just because he’s standing right next to him, or maybe it’s that sense of _knowing_ again, but Eddie asks, “What’s wrong, Richie? Why are you crying?”

The gentleness in his voice pushes Richie over the edge into full blown sobs. Still, he manages to answer, “Uh… I guess it’s because I have to make a confession, too. I just… I don’t know if I can say it. I’m afraid you’ll all hate me.” This last sentence is barely above a whisper, but they hear it, in the quiet tunnel. 

“We could never hate you,” Beverly says. “Richie, we love you!”

“Bevvie, I haven’t even told you yet. We were kinda doing a thing, if you didn’t notice. Confession, then love declaration. Not the other way around.”

“Beep-beep, trashmouth. We love you no matter what. You can tell us anything.”

Richie lets out a half-sob, half-sigh and says, “Fuck,” followed by a very long moment of silence. 

“F-f-for once in his l-life, the trashmouth is sp-sp-speechless,” Bill gets off a good one, and they all laugh. The lovely sound of their laughter is the courage Richie needs to start talking. 

Still, his voice is near breaking as he says, “I think I like boys.” It stops their laughter immediately, though not in the ‘horrified and disgusted shock’ sort of way that he feared. More of a ‘respectful friends supporting him while he comes out,’ kind of way. He’s crying even harder now as he says, “I don’t know. I’m so confused, because I like girls. I definitely like girls. But sometimes I feel the same way about boys. And I don’t understand. I think something’s wrong with me, because I’m not supposed to feel that way, I’m not supposed to like both. How can I like both? I need to just choose to like girls, but then I can’t help it, and I get a crush on - I _have_ a crush on-” he stops himself before he says too much, and finishes with, “a boy.”

“It’s okay to like both, Richie. It’s okay to like boys or girls or both or neither,” Bev says in a levelheaded tone. “That doesn’t change anything about you.”

“It doesn’t feel okay. I don’t want to be gay,” he sobs. 

“Then I guess it’s a good thing you’re not. Sounds to me like you’re bisexual,” she explains. 

“What?”

“That’s the word for when you like both boys and girls.”

Bisexual. Richie repeats the word in his head, not ready to say it out loud yet. It sounds like a bad word, like the

( _slurs_ ) 

words Henry Bowers and the other bullies at school like to throw at him. But this is a word given to him by Beverly. Bev wouldn’t call him a bad word like that. She might call him a trashmouth or an idiot, she might beep him or tell him to shut up, but she wouldn’t use a word like that on him. So maybe it’s not a bad word. He decides to hold onto it; not use it, not yet, but to hold onto it for a while until either he decides that it fits, or he finds a better word. It’s a start. 

“Oh. Okay,” he sniffles, for once in his life unable to say more. 

“We love you, Richie,” Beverly repeats, and Richie nods in acceptance. And then, in the darkness, Eddie grabs Richie’s hand in his own, giving it three squeezes before dropping it again. Unlike before, none of the others notice this. Perhaps believing is half the magic, and both Richie and Eddie believe that this small moment is between the two of them, no one else. Richie is a strange mixture of confused, breathlessly excited, totally overwhelmed, and, mostly, grateful. It’s enough to turn his heaving sobs into just a few hitching breaths, before calming down. 

There’s a moment of deep quiet before anyone speaks. Finally, Ben clears his throat. “Um, I guess I should say something, too. You guys all said such important things, but I feel silly; I don’t have anything that deep to confess. I think you might already know.”

“It’s okay,” Mike reassures. He understands intuitively, though he doesn’t quite have the words to explain, that it’s not about the confession itself. The magic is in the act of confessing, an act of trust to bring them back together again, now that It was 

( _sleeping_ )

gone. The Turtle or some Other or whatever had brought them together had been enough before, but now they are out of

( _the blue and into the black_ )

the magic that had tied them up in each other in the first place. They need the magic back, but they need to make it themselves this time, and so they need this act of confession and love and trust. Mike understands this, but he doesn’t have the words, so he simply tells Ben, “It’s about the confessing, not the confession. It doesn’t matter what you tell us.”

Ben sighs before saying, “I was the one who sent you that poem, Beverly. I wrote it because I love you.” It’s simple, because if he had to say any more he might die of embarrassment on the spot. He’s said those words to her before, outside of the smokehole, but this is different. That time, they had all said it, and they had meant it in a generic, friendship way. Not to say that his love for his friends doesn’t run bone deep, but his love for Beverly is decidedly different, and it’s very clear in his confession. Ben is momentarily glad for the darkness so she won’t see the furious blush on his cheeks. 

“It was beautiful, Ben. Thank you,” is all she replies, but for a brief moment her hand flutters against his arm in the dark, a reassuring gesture, which is all he needs. 

“We love you, Ben,” Mike says, adding, “and I think I should go next.” He pauses, seeming to think it over before he makes his speech: “You all are the best friends I ever had, and I’m sure that you would all say the same. But to be honest, you’re pretty much the only friends I’ve ever had. It’s not exactly easy being the only Black kid in town, especially in a town as rotten and racist as Derry. And I guess… I’m afraid that this is the end. I’m worried that we won’t be as close anymore. It feels like the minute we get out of these dang sewers, the spell that brought us so close is over. So that’s my confession; I don’t want to lose any of this, or any of you.”

This is preposterous to Eddie - the idea that the force holding them together as the Loser’s Club could suddenly just disappear, after all they had been through together. He thinks back to the day in the hospital when they had signed his cast; how the air had that strange quality to it, the same as outside Neibolt Street and this very afternoon in the Barrens, before they had been chased into the sewers; how a thunderstorm had raged outside the window; and how it had felt like they were signing a contract rather than a cast. 

“Remember when you all signed my cast?” They nod their heads - how could they forget? They see their names on his arm every day. “That was like an agreement,” Eddie continues. “We agreed to do this thing together, and now it’s done. But we didn’t agree to be friends that day, because we were already friends. So just because this is over, doesn’t mean the friendship is over. We’ll always be the Loser’s Club. We love you, Mike, and we always will.”

“Thanks, Eddie,” Mike smiles so warmly it seems to light up the darkness for one tiny second. Then it’s quiet once again, and all thoughts turn to Stanley. 

Stanley, who had been the most scared in the house on Neibolt Street. Stanley, who hadn’t wanted to be in the sewers in the first place, and had been the first to lose his composure as they made their way down here, and who had been the most distressed by Eddie’s admission that they were lost. In any other group, it would have been easy to point to Stan as the weakest link among them. But not in the Loser’s Club. 

No, because this is their beautiful friend Stan. Stan, with his orderly mind and his calm demeanor. Stan, with his books and his binoculars and his birds. Stan, the most adult member of the group, which they could all recognize put him at such greater risk to fall victim to It, to lose the protection of their childhood magic. In their eyes, this marks him as perhaps the strongest among them all.

Sensing their anticipation, Stan speaks. “I love you all. But I also kind of hate you, too. I didn’t want any of this. I didn’t want to be dragged to the sewers. I didn’t want to fight that fucking _thing_. I didn’t want to have nearly every belief I ever had shattered into pieces. I just want to go home. I want to be clean, and I want to look for birds that I know exist. But mostly, I want to forget this ever happened, because I’m really, really scared that we didn’t kill It. I’m terrified that It’s not dead, and we’ll have to come back and finish what we started. Because I don’t think I can do that, and I’m afraid of what I would do to myself to keep me from facing this again,” his voice has dropped off into a hoarse whimper. 

If they weren’t already, everyone is crying now. They understand what Stan is alluding to when he says he’s afraid of what he would do to himself, and they each feel some combination of shock, and despair, and regret - that their friend feels this way, but also that they had a hand in making their friend feel this way. Richie and Eddie are both sobbing uncontrollably now, and from her place next to him, Beverly wraps her arm around Stan’s shoulders and squeezes, refusing to let him go even as she sobs too. 

“I-I’m s-so s-sorry, Stan,” Bill finally speaks. His face is wet with tears, but he does not sob, although he does fight through some particularly bad stutters. “I’m s-s-sorry if I l-let you d-down, or didn’t pro-t-tect you e-enough. I’m s-s-sorry I ever made you f-f-feel that w-way. B-b-b-but we love you, Stan. W-we love you so f-fuck-i-ing m-much. We w-wouldn’t b-be the Loser’s Cl-cl-club w-without you. And I p-p-promise, I sw-swear, if It isn’t dead, i-if we do have to come b-back, I’ll d-do anything to protect y-y-you. Whatever i-it is, I’ll d-do i-it. We n-need y-you, Stan. N-not to f-fight It, just to b-be our fr-friend. B-b-b-because we love you.”

“Yeah, we love you, Stan,” they all join in, reassuring their friend that his place in the world and in their hearts is vital. Beverly turns toward him, wrapping her other arm around him in a hug, and then they’re all there, a tangle of heads and shoulders and arms wrapped around each other in a group hug. 

When they pull away, the air has cleared, and they feel strikingly refreshed. Eddie takes a moment to get his bearings, and suddenly he knows where they are and where they’re going, what wrong turns they took to get lost and how to fix them. Just like that, he leads them through the tunnels toward the blessed daylight. They climb back up the ladder out of the pumping station where they entered this afternoon, back into the Barrens and the real world, and it’s over. 

  
  
  


Well, not quite over; Stan breaks an old Coke bottle and uses the glass to cut their palms. They join hands in a circle and feel that profound sense of power wash over and between them again. They swear to each other that they will return, if their fears come true and It isn’t dead. They swear that they will take responsibility and finish what they started. Then their hands drop away, the circle breaks, and the power dissipates but does not disappear. Their act of love and trust in the darkness deep underneath the town of Derry is enough to keep the power between them from disappearing entirely. It is one small act, one tiny change to their story, and yet it has ripples that grow and grow until they go on to change the outcome of their story 27 years later. 

This is not the last time the seven of them will be together. In fact, the very next day, they will gather at Bill’s house and play board games and go to a movie at the Aladdin. They will stay together through the end of the summer and into the fall, and although Mike goes to a different school and Stan is in a different grade, nothing can stop them from being one big group. 

And some of their confessions are strong enough to create a chain reaction that will save their lives. Ben’s confession, understated though it was, will eventually allow love to blossom between he and Beverly. In time, Richie’s confession will give Eddie the courage to make a similar one of his own, which will give the two the strength to face their feelings for each other, and a beautiful relationship will bloom between them as well. In just a few years, Richie and Eddie will seem like soulmates, and anyone in the Loser’s Club will tell you so. This means that, after 27 years, when they’re back in the lair of It and Richie calls for help during the ritual of Chud, Eddie will grab his hand and squeeze it three times to give him strength, rather than running toward the danger to attack It. Eddie’s arm will never get anywhere near the mouth of the monster, and he won’t bleed to death on the floor of the sewers. 

And Stan’s confession will sit with them all, heavy in their hearts. It will stay so fresh in Mike’s mind that when it comes time for him to call Stan back to Derry, he will know what to do and say to help keep Stan’s life safe. Mike will call Bill first, and explain the situation. Then he’ll call Stan with the bad news about It returning. But as soon as he is off the phone with Stan, he'll let Bill know, and then Bill will also call Stan. Mike will tell the rest of the Loser’s Club, too, and they will all call Stan themselves after talking to Mike. It’s the first thing they’ll do before they get in their cars or on flights back to Maine. They'll tell Stan how much his life means to them, how much they love him and need him, and it will be enough. Stan will get on a flight from Atlanta to Bangor and meet them all at the airport in a furious group hug. 

And while their power is enough for some things, it is not enough to stop the forgetting. No, the forgetting is necessary for bringing them back together, and the drifting apart is necessary for growing up. It doesn’t happen all at once; they forget about It first, after a few months. They know that something powerful brought them together, that they had done something important together, but they forget the specifics about the horrible evil and how exactly they stopped It. But they only forget each other after several years, after their teenagehood has ended and they step out of Derry and into their adult lives. 

Still, having those teenage years together allows their bond to grow naturally, to develop beyond what any supernatural force had in mind when it brought them all together, and that is the key. It means that they won’t need the Turtle’s help at all, in 27 years; the power of the seven kept intact and bolstered by the bonds that developed between them will allow them to win. There will still be pain, and fear, and heartbreak, yes, but they will win against It and all walk away with their lives, because of what they confessed to each other in the sewers - that one tiny act that made all the difference. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Fun fact: fanfic authors live for kudos and comments 💕


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